Other Fan Fiction ❯ Make Me Happy ❯ Make Me Happy ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Make Me Happy by aliccolo
Pairing: Johnny/Sue
Rating: Hard R, for subject matter. Includes adult situations, drinking, and incest. Nothing overly graphic, but it's better to be safe.
Archive: Seriously? Yes. If you think it's good enough. I would be so happy. Just let me know if you want to, and if so, where.
Notes: This is in repsonse to an anonymous prompt at the Marvel Kink meme on Livejournal. The prompt was "Johnny/Sue - drunken romp. obviously incest. bonus points for almost getting caught." This is my attempt to deliver. FF is not my favorite corner of the Marvel uni, and I've never written anything like this. This is my first attempt at writing these characters, and my first attempt at writing incest. Any and all con-crit is welcome, but please do not flame.
Synopsis: He'd never looked so much like their father though as he did right now, smirking as he stretched out on the sofa, bathed in the gentle glow of a table lamp at three o'clock in the morning.
Disclaimers: Characters belong to Marvel, et al. Author makes no claims to them.
Completed: July 2009
Contact: magical_soybean@yahoo.com

***

The halls and rooms were so quiet at night, still, silent, with the kids tucked away to softly breathe and dream, and Reed tucked away elsewhere to rant and mull over some equation he insisted he did not need any help with. Susan found herself alone, sitting dejectedly on the floor with an empty bottle of Merlot and the little photo album she liked to take out and study. It was a typical situation really. She couldn't count the number of evenings she'd spent like this in the last six months or so, staring at the pictures, taking them out, running her fingers over the smooth, glossy paper, hastily stuffing them away when the tears started to fall.

Her mother looked so happy, leaning over a birthday cake, blowing out the candles, or sitting there with a miniature Sue on her lap, grinning from ear to ear. Her father was in those pictures too, standing with her mother, his arm around her, handsome and beaming like he'd won the lottery or some other great accolade. Knowing him, he probably had. There were pictures of Johnny too, so young, so small, but Susan usually flipped past those. Her favorites were of her parents, before she and Johnny were even born, when they were young, vibrant, and happy. Pictures of them together. Beautiful, smiling. In love.

"You're still up?"

She slammed the album shut on instinct, eyes flashing upwards at the intruder, only relaxing slightly at the sight of her brother's dumb, smiling face. "Johnny," she mumbled, wiping her cheeks rather quickly, silently cursing that she hadn't worn waterproof mascara. She probably looked like a raccoon. "How was you date with Missy?"

"Mandy and I had a great time." He had somehow managed to flop onto the sofa without Sue even noticing, staring down at her with a mix of concern and intoxication painting his face. "Sue, you been crying? What's wrong?"

Susan fought back a small sniffle, rubbing at her eyes again, shaking her head, "No, no, it's nothing. I was just thinking, that's all."

Johnny's eyes felt so hot on her face. If she'd been any other woman, she'd be blushing. If he'd been any other man, she'd have made herself invisible, just to duck away from his gaze. His eyes flickered then, from her to the album, shaking his finger at her as he grinned crookedly, "You been looking through that old thing again? Jeez, Sue, you know every time you do you break down and cry. Can't be healthy."

She frowned, glancing back at the little book, still tight in her hands. So precious, so important. It didn't matter that it made her weep like a baby just to look inside. With a sigh, she turned back to Johnny, opening her mouth with some clever retort about him minding his own business when she was suddenly struck by something that shook her to the very core. That grin. That lopsided, stupid grin, the one that she hated, the one that he turned on to tease her. . .it looked so very much like that picture of her father. The one with his arms around her mother. The picture of them, so happy, so beautiful. So in love. Their father. Their mother. "Oh God."

Johnny perked up, nose wrinkling, "Sue?"

Her voice was shaky, laugh forced, nervous, cracking as she tore her eyes away. ". . .You look just like him."

"W-what?" Had he been sober, he probably would have latched on more quickly. As it were, he seemed to catch on mere seconds later, cocking his head, running his hands absently through his hair. Even his hair was like--

"You look like Daddy."

"Well that's a random thing to say," Johnny snorted, easing back into the sofa cushions, apparently not noticing the strained expression on his sister's face. "This just occur to you now? Or you been saving that one for a rainy day?"

She shook her head, biting her lip softly. She'd noticed, of course, over the years. His profile, his eyes, the way he moved, hell, even his voice. It was all imprinted in her memory, all locked away in the back of her mind, but just as snippets. He'd never looked so much like their father though as he did right now, smirking as he stretched out on the sofa, bathed in the gentle glow of a table lamp at three o'clock in the morning. "Johnny."

He muttered something half coherent, draping an arm over his eyes.

"Hold me?"

He didn't answer, just dropped his arm over the back of the sofa, an open invitation to curl up beside him. Susan had felt so strange, asking him for that. It was an odd request, to have her brother hold her while they sat together on the couch. Something seemed rather corrupt about it, though she quickly brushed the thought away, climbing off the floor and settling against him, pressing her ear to his chest as his arm curved protectively around her. She sighed, closing her eyes, letting him tap his fingers idly on her shoulder. She could hear his heartbeat, steady, even, not racing or rapid or anything. And he was so warm. It was comforting, calming. Sue reckoned she could fall asleep in Johnny's arms, and absently wondered how many women had done the very same thing.

"Sue?" He said after a few minutes, tucking a strand of her hair carefully behind her ear, fingers not missing a beat as they drummed away on her arm.

She opened her eyes quickly, giving him a sleepy glance, "Hm?"

"You. . .you look a lot like Mom."

It was a little alarming how quickly the serenity of the moment was shattered by such a mundane comment, alarming to Susan how quickly her pulse picked up as she tore back and away from her brother, eying him cautiously. Had it been any other night, she'd probably be misty-eyed again, probably have opened up another bottle of wine to split with her brother, probably stayed up til sunrise to share random anecdotes and memories of their life before, of childhood. Of their mother and father. But tonight. . .that bottle of Merlot was already gone, and God only knew what Johnny had consumed during his evening of barhopping and body-shots. Swapping memories of childhood didn't seem particularly appealing. Not when Johnny had that glint in his eye, and that expression that was so very familiar.

"He made her so happy," Susan whispered, finally daring to look her brother in the eye. "Dad made Mom so happy. Like Reed was supposed to make me."

"Sue. . ."

"I'm not happy, Johnny. I'm so unhappy. I'm miserable." Her voice was cracking again, and she clung tightly to the arm of the sofa. If she let go of it, she might--

"Susan. . ."

His tone had changed, darker, deeper. It sent shivers down her spine, made her feel so cold, even though she could pick up a slight fluctuation in the temperature of the room. Susan swallowed, eyes dancing from the album on the floor, to the ceiling, to her brother. Any other night, and this conclusion would have been vetoed, locked away, never considered or remembered again. Any other night, and Sue would have wandered off to check on her children, kiss their sleeping faces, and settle in to her own bed to dream away the horrible thoughts suddenly creeping into her mind. Any other night, and she wouldn't be groping at Johnny, tugging open his jeans, and gazing into his bright blue eyes. "Make me happy, Johnny. Make me happy, like Mom and Dad."

If he protested, Sue didn't hear, she was too drunk on the wine or the disturbing lack of morality that swept over her. His skin was hot in her hand, and he was hard, probably from the physical contact rather than the situation. It didn't matter to Susan. The idea was in her head, and all mental blocks and safeguards were broken down and shattered. Her own pants were discarded a second later, though she noticed belatedly that it had been Johnny who'd forced them off.

She wasn't nearly wet enough, spitting hurriedly into her hand, coating the both of them with a little makeshift lubrication, and it still took a try or three before she slid onto him. Susan's eyes grew wide, mouth agape with a tiny gasp, matching and mirrored by the deeper groan of her brother's voice. Susan placed her hands delicately onto his shoulders, his hands were on her hips in an instant, steadying her as she shifted and adjusted.

As soon as she was situated he started to move, thrusting quickly, so very quickly, no doubt absolutely as terrified as she was. He felt so different, not like Reed at all, and he moved differently. Susan stayed almost perfectly still, muffling her moans as best as she could, letting Johnny muffle his own into her chest.

The very nature of this encounter dictated that it was not to be a leisurely experience. It was fast, probably the fastest sex either of them had ever had, and though it wasn't devoid of pleasure, that hadn't been the point. It was something else, something more, something deeper. Susan stared at her brother's face, watching his eyes flutter shut, and his mouth twist as he whispered her name. There was something hauntingly satisfying about that. Sue closed her eyes again, letting his rhythm overtake her, whimper moments later as Johnny pushed her up and off quickly, and came hard into his own hand.

The two of them were silent then, blue eyes locked on each other, brother and sister making some sort of unspoken pact right then and there. Even all the alcohol couldn't change the fact that they both realized what a horrible mistake it had been. Neither of them could ever utter a word of this. Never. Not even on their deathbeds. Susan quickly gathered their pants from the floor, pulling hers on easily, watching from the corner of her eye as Johnny dressed too.

She bent down to retrieve the album too, noticing though that something was amiss. The three a.m. silence had been broken, and maternal instinct forced her eyes to the tiny figure staring from the hall.

"Mommy?"